


Where?

by Beth Harker (Beth_Harker)



Category: Newsies (1992)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beth_Harker/pseuds/Beth%20Harker
Summary: Mush sets out to help Patrick’s mother find her child once and for all. Too bad he’s such a lousy detective.





	Where?

“Hate to break it to you, pal, but you make a lousy detective,” said Specs, who was in a position to know, being knee deep in the “Silver Sleuth” series of dime novels. Ever since Specs had started reading those books, he’d been solving crimes, both real and imaginary. Just the other day Specs had expertly deduced, based on evidence and testimony, that Bumlets had murdered Itey in cold blood then gotten Jake to hide the body. So convincing was his logic, that Snitch had hidden under the bed until Itey had finally shown up, two hours later than usual, with an embarrassed smile and lipstick staining the collar of his shirt.

Mush wished that he was book smart like Specs, but he also knew that there was no use in trying to be something he wasn’t. That’s what made this whole detective situation so strange in the first place. “She asked me four times,” Mush explained. His head was down, and his hands were in his pockets. “I can say no once, but it ain’t polite to do it four times in a row.”

“Say Mush, can you spot me a dollar?” Racetrack asked.

“Sorry, Race, I don’t have one right now.”

“Can you spot me a dollar?” Race repeated. He held up his fingers, to show that he’d asked two times. “Can you spot me a dollar?” That was time number three. Blink made a fist at him, which set Racetrack laughing, even as he held up his hands in truce.

“Where do you all get off picking on somebody who’s trying to do the right thing?” Blink asked.

And Mush was trying to do the right thing. It was all for the sake of family and motherly love, though he’d never personally experienced either. Patrick’s mother was well known amongst the Manhattan newsboys, so much so that most of them didn’t notice he crying and pleas as they passed her on the way to work every morning. Rumor had it that if you looked at her too closely, you’d have bad luck the whole day, and if you spoke to her, it would follow you for a week. Mush hadn’t meant to let her catch up with him that morning, but he’d stopped to talk to one on the breakfast nuns, and then suddenly she’d been there, clutching his hand and asking him to help her find her baby. At that point Mush had stood no chance of ignoring her, and so he’d ended up canvassing Manhattan and Brooklyn too, in a fruitless search for any Patrick who might be missing his family. The bad luck had been that he’d had no time to make money while doing so, and that he’d travelled so far without resting that his feet hurt.

“While you was interviewing everyone you met, looking for potential Patricks,” said Skittery, who had been listening to the conversation with interest. “Did you ever think to ask the lady what she had to offer?”

“What do you mean?” asked Mush.

“Like what kind of grub does she have at her house? Would her Patrick get his own room? Is she willing to pay for his upkeep, or does he get stuck slogging off to work and trying to support her day in and day out.”

Mush scratched his head. Skittery was leaning over to look at him now. “Guess I didn’t think of that,” he said.

“Well,” said Skittery, “go ahead and ask her, when you meet up with her tomorrow. Figure I could be a Patrick if the conditions is good enough.”

“You’d do that for me?” Mush felt a flood of relief. If he could just find a kid for this woman, she’d be happy, and leave Mush alone. Skittery was tall and clever. He’d make a good son.

“I ain’t promising nothin’,” Skittery cautioned. “Let’s wait and see if this is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Despite his cautious words, Skittery spat in his hand, and stuck it out for Mush to shake. To Mush, this seemed awfully like a promise.


End file.
